


Kintsugi

by inkystars



Category: Glee
Genre: (but not in the way one would expect), Cutting, Fear of Scientists, M/M, Mild Gore, Sexual Harassment, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkystars/pseuds/inkystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kintsugi/Kintsukuroi (n.) - The Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer resin mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy it speaks to breakage and repair becoming part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the lovely Kathy (writergrrrl.tumblr.com).

_"Not that you lied to me but that I no longer believe you has shaken me."_

_\--Friedrich Nietzsche, **Beyond Good and Evil**_

\---

The condensation of the frosty glass did nothing to help the chill that permeated his entire body, but there was still a bit of comfort he could take in it. He breathed out slowly, his breath clinging to the little wet droplets before furling away quickly like smoke. The eyelashes of his right eye dragged across through the dampness as his eyes slowly opened.  **  
**

It had to be after noon, probably around four-ish. He leaned away from the glass, cracking his neck uncomfortably as he adjusted his position in the cramped window lounge. Located in the back of Thrice Sold Tales, obscured by two bookshelves--one full of obscure medical texts, the other thirty year old romance novels--hardly anyone ever came back to this corner, employees included, so he could get a good five hours of sleep in before he had to work the graveyard shift.

It was the only shift he'd signed up for after being kicked out of his ex's brownstone in Gramercy. And he'd had too much pride to try and crash with Santana and Elliot at their loft.

That would mean telling them that he'd broken up with Adam.

He licked his lips, grimacing at the gross feeling of his mouth as he shifted to try and get into a more comfortable position.

The loud vibration of a cellphone interrupted his soft lull back into uncomfortable sleep.

"Oh Tina, thank god. I need your advice."

Kurt pulled his scarf up over his ears, hoping to block out the sound of the voice that was gradually coming closer to his nook.

"No, the critiques are coming up next month and I'm scheduled to go right after Jean Baptiste. It's going to be a nightmare."

Kurt sighed, eyes opening as he stared out at the bleak gray concrete outside that was covered in slushy black snow.

"I can't, you know how strict Carmen is. Plus I'm not going to let him know that it bugs me--I just have to find a song that's better than his. But the theme is Sondheim, and I haven't performed a Sondheim song in front of a live audience since high school. I have no idea what I'm going to do and--" The voice broke off suddenly and the sound of a muted thud against wood came from the other side of the science bookshelf. "Yeah, sorry. I'll figure something out. And sorry for calling so late, I know you have a Skype date with Mike. Yeah, tell him I said hi. Okay, see you."

There was the distinct iPhone beep of a phone call ending and the person on the other side of the bookshelf let out a long steady breath. "Fuck..."

Silence returned. Kurt welcomed it gladly as he closed his eyes again.

Except the stranger’s whispered “fuck” kept echoing through his head.

His eyes flew open and he sighed, pushing off the window to walk around the other side of the science bookshelf.  

What he could make out was a thick black peacoat with two olive green trousers sticking out of the bottom and glossy black hair that was half buried on a shelf in despair.

Kurt cleared his throat. "You go to NYADA, right?"

The guy jumped, banging his head on the bookshelf, a surprised "Ow!" coming out as Kurt took an alarmed step forward, reaching out for him, "I'm sorry!" blurting off of his lips.

The guy looked up with big hazel eyes and Kurt's mouth promptly closed. It was definitely an oh fuck please not now please no moment for him as the guy's thick eyebrows raised briefly and he smiled sweetly at him. "No, it's fine, you just startled me."

And he was wearing a houndstooth scarf. Kurt kind of wanted to cry.

"But um, yes."

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"I do go to NYADA. How did you know?"

"I--" Oh god, now this was just going to sound creepy. "Sorry, I heard you talking about critiques and Carmen, and I just assumed. I went there last year."

"Really?" The guy's grin grew tenfold. "A graduate? Wow."

"No," Kurt shook his head. "A dropout actually. Personal stuff came up."

"Oh," the smile morphed into something a bit more sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," Kurt brushed off easily. "Life, you know."

"Yeah, I definitely know."

And there was a moment, as the guy kept smiling at him and Kurt started to feel warm on the inside--something he hadn't properly felt since Adam shut the door in his face--where he almost forgot everything happening in his life and contemplated doing something stupid like asking the guy out.

But then reality snapped back into place and he gave a strained smile before brushing past him. To head out so he could get to work early and pilfer food.

***

The diner after four was always relatively dead save for a couple of drunk patrons who would come in after bars kicked them out.

Kurt quickly gulped down a small cup of crappy black coffee before going out to wipe down the tables in his section. He only had to work until seven, and then he could roam the streets of Manhattan for a couple of hours before heading to Thrice Sold Tales so he could get in some sleep once they opened at ten.

Glancing briefly at his reflection in the window, he balked at the telltale signs of his body starting to give up--his veins weren't doing a good job of keeping their secret hidden--and he rubbed his arms, trying to keep them warm and pale and normal.

That did nothing to help the fact that his back had been aching for the past four days.

He was going to have to go to the loft soon for a night. This was getting bad.

Walking back to the kitchen, a flicker of movement caught his eye. There was someone sitting at the small one-person table in the back corner of his section, which he'd completely missed on his rounds. Probably a drunk trying to keep warm until someone picked them up.

But it wasn't. It was the NYADA guy from the bookstore a few days back. Kurt let out an "Oh." as he took out his pad and the other guy's eyes slid up to his, widening briefly in recognition before crinkling in delight. "Hey! It's you! From the bookstore, right?"

"Yes," Kurt said awkwardly, not really sure what the protocol here was. "Hi?"

"Hey," the other guy repeated. "Oh, I'm Blaine. Sorry. Guess we never got introduced before."

"Kurt," he replied easily with a nod. "And I'll be your server for this evening."

"Awesome," Blaine nodded, glancing back at his menu. "This has been an all-nighter night, so something satisfying that'll allow me to crash after I get back to my place."

"Well, our mac and cheese is good, though it's definitely best when you're drunk, and the french toast is fair."

"Mac and cheese it is, then. And a coffee please," Blaine smiled, returning his menu with a flourish.

As he poured Blaine's coffee, Kurt tried not to think about luck or coincidence or anything of that sort, and definitely not how Blaine's eyes had caught in the diner lights or that his priorly glossy black hair was now a bit pouffy, presumably from the lateness of the hour and--

Kurt pressed his forehead against the coffeemaker. "Get a grip, will you?" he mumbled to himself. "You've been down this path before."

So he straightened his back and brought Blaine is coffee. He gave a short nod before turning to go back to the kitchen.

"Kurt, wait." A warm hand reached out to grab his hand unexpectedly and he felt the familiar crackling through his palm.

He yanked his hand back sharply, turning around, but Blaine hadn't seemed to notice.

He did, however, look mortified. "I'm sorry, that was completely inappropriate."

"It's fine," Kurt shook his head, twisting his wrist until it cracked behind his back. "What was it that you wanted? Some cream?"

"No, it's just...you went to NYADA. And it's my first year--" That surprised Kurt. He would've put him as a senior, though at second glance, his fashion did seem to be a bit on the younger side, if his peach bow tie was anything to go by. "--and I've never had a critique before. I know your  **(you're)**  busy but...I don't know, if there's any Sondheim song you could think of that would work well...I guess any help would be greatly appreciated."

Kurt blinked, staring down at Blaine with his tired eyes and his three packets of brown sugar that he was stirring into his coffee. No, he wasn't supposed to do things like school anymore or have real friends outside of Santana and Elliot and Rachel.

But he had missed this. Musical theater, late night study sessions, talking about professors, swapping tips. And so, against his better judgement, he pulled up a chair from an adjacent table and sat with a smile.

"Well, Carmen notoriously doesn't care for Being Alive, though I did sing it last year at my midwinter critique."

"You didn't," Blaine grinned, leaning forward on one hand.

"It just felt like the best choice," Kurt smiled. "And I guess that's what you have to go with. Something that sort of applies to your now. What's your range?"

"Baritone. Some tenor."

"Ooh, okay there's a lot you could choose from..."

***

"Kurt!"

Kurt turned, glancing across the street as he saw Blaine waving at him. An immediate smile shot to his lips as he waved back eagerly. They were up on the west side, by the park, and Blaine was crossing the street towards him, cringing and apologizing as he obstructed traffic.

Covering his mouth as he laughed, Kurt watched him with fondness before his laugh stopped abruptly, his smile slowly falling from his face as his instincts began to kick in.

Because he realized exactly what was happening.

And honestly? Kurt never thought he'd get a watcher.

He was the boring one of the three. Rachel was high profile one who had to be dealt with delicately because she had the public's attention, so nothing too bad could be done to her. And Santana was the wild card. She did basically what she wanted because they had no way to hurt her and she was dangerous.

Kurt was surprised that they even thought twice about him. Yes, he was valuable, but it wasn't like he was going anywhere. He could barely afford soap, let alone a plane ticket to go on the run.

They knew for sure that Brody was Rachel's watcher, and they were keeping an eye on him. Santana had Dani, who was easy enough for her to dupe. They'd briefly thought that Kurt had one a few months back in the form of Elliot, but he ended up just being overly nice.

So Kurt didn't expect much in the department of secret organization spies coming to poke and prod at his life, which is probably why it took him so long to realize that while one was an incident and two was a coincidence...

Blaine stood before him on the sidewalk, smile wide and bright and way too perfect.

Three was definitely a pattern.

***

"Wait, I'm sorry," Rachel interrupted, her voice steadily climbing higher and higher. "Would you mind running that by me one more time."

"It's not that big of a deal," Kurt sighed. "I mean, he just sort of pops up every now and then--"

"And you're just now telling us?" Rachel snapped. "What if he followed you here?"

"I'm not that much of an idiot, Rachel," he groaned. "I was discreet and I covered my tracks."

"Well he could have a tracking device on you!" she threw up her arms, pacing back and forth. "Oh god, he could have probed you."

"Wanky," Santana added unhelpfully as she came back from the kitchen with an entire bottle of Johnny Walker. "First of all, drink this Berry, and calm the fuck down."

"Thank you," Kurt sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Second, stay away from the spy, Hummel."

"Seriously?" Kurt flipped over onto his side on the couch to stare at her. "You're really going to lecture me on this when both you and Rachel are banging your watchers?"

"It’s so they don’t suspect. And we don't have preexisting boyfriends who complicate matters," Santana shot back with a smirk.

Kurt opened his mouth to snap back before closing it. If they knew he and Adam weren't a thing anymore and he had no place to sleep, they'd use that incentive to send him back to Lima for sure and there was no way that was going to happen. So he adopted a sullen silence instead, hoping that Santana hadn't noticed his half-second slip.

"Exactly," she said, taking the whiskey back from Rachel. "Auntie Tana's always right."

"Stop calling yourself that," Kurt rolled his eyes as he held out his hand for the bottle.

***

The thing was...he didn't stay away from Blaine.

Not that it would've been necessarily easy. Blaine started showing up every afternoon at the bookshop with coffee and he'd come in most nights to the diner. True, Kurt could switch hours and sleeping locations and attempt to avoid him--or just straight up tell him to back off, because Blaine seemed like the type who would, lest he blow his cover--but the thing was...Kurt didn't want him to back off.

He had a limited circle of friends. It was pretty much Rachel and Santana, who he was linked to through certain commonalities, and Elliot who had accidentally ended up their confidant. He didn't interact with anyone else except his boss and a couple of coworkers, none of whom he liked.

And Blaine was talented and handsome and charming and sweet and...didn't actually care about him, yes. But Kurt had given up on a normal life at the age of sixteen, so if he wanted to use a charade for his own piece of short-lived personal enjoyment, he wasn't going to let hypocrites like Rachel or Santana tell him he couldn't.

***

It was the middle of November when the temperature seriously dropped. And Kurt saw the question coming from a mile off.

"I didn't want to bring it up," Blaine says one afternoon before Kurt has to work. They're sitting in a small steamy coffee shop, their knees knocking together bashfully. "But...you don't have...well, a residence, do you?"

"Um, no," Kurt licked his lips. "I uh, I don't. I'd been staying with my last boyfriend but we had a really abrupt breakup and he kind of kicked me out. Some friends of mine are holding some of my stuff, but I don't have much. It helps that I only really need my work uniform."

"Some friends?" Blaine's eyebrows shot up.

Kurt stared at him, treading carefully. "Yeah. We're not close. They just had some extra storage space so I paid to use their closet."

Blaine smiled, stirring his coffee. "It's nice to have people you can trust."

"Hardly," Kurt snorted. "I'm not entirely sure who I trust anymore."

It was a calculated line, but the worst part is that it did ring a bit true. Rachel and Santana were investigating things on their own and Elliot was constantly running between the three of them and Kurt just felt out of the loop most of the time.

"Well, I hope that you can trust me," Blaine said, leaning forward earnestly before abruptly pulling back, eyes wide. "I mean, I would completely understand if you didn't, sorry, that came off kind of awkward." He gave a cute helpless smile.

Damn. He was really good.

Kurt let his face soften. "I do trust you," he said, doing his best to allow his voice to ring with sincerity.

Blaine's smile widened. "Well...okay, this is crazy and out of the blue because we don't even know each other that well...but do you want to stay at my place? I mean, it's only one bedroom but the living room is pretty spacious and I never use it, and I'm pretty sure I have a curtain somewhere I could hang for privacy and oh god I'm rambling."

"I--" Kurt laughed, reaching forward to place his hand over Blaine's. "Blaine, that's very sweet, but I'm in no position to be paying rent or anything--"

"Kurt, you're on the street," Blaine blurted out bluntly. "I don't expect you to pay rent. And it's getting cold. There's snow everywhere, and I know that Thrice Sold Tales isn't open on weekends. I don't want you sleeping out on the streets."

He had him there. Kurt couldn't just say that he'd go stay with friends--which he would, if push came to shove, he'd suck it up and talk Elliot into letting him crash--because he'd just put on a big show about how he didn't really have any.

"Plus it gets kinda lonely," Blaine grimaced. "And I've been annoying all my neighbors by constantly talking to myself. So with your presence, I can give off the illusion that I'm actually not crazy, so really you'd just be doing me a favor here."

Kurt laughed and knew it had reached the point in the conversation where he should accept. "Well..." he bit his lip. "Look, if it's any amount of an inconvenience--"

"I will very promptly not tell you because there's no way I'm letting you sleep on the street," Blaine said with finality.

***

"Sorry, I don't have a spare mattress," Blaine said, wringing his hands after the tour of his little brownstone basement apartment in the Village. "But the couch should be long enough for you to fit--"

"Blaine," Kurt interrupted, taking his hands. "It's perfect and far better than anything I could have expected. Thank you."

Blaine gave him a cute lopsided grin. "Um, you're also free to use any of my museum passes or subway pass or anything you want. I always have too much food, so you're free to that as well. And...that's it, I guess. If you need anything, let me know."

Kurt nodded, sitting down on the couch with his bag in his arms as Blaine pulled the little curtain shut behind him and padded off to his room in the back.

***

After getting home from work early the next morning, he decided to poke around before Blaine woke up, but stopped dead when he saw him in the kitchen in snuggly warm pajamas flipping pancakes.

Blaine turned toward him with a grin. "Hello! I figured you might like some food before hitting the hay. I have class in a bit, so I hope you don't mind that it's breakfast food."

Kurt shook his head with a smile as he sat down at the counter.

Blaine liked to babble as he cooked. He went on and on about his different NYADA classes and friends and this one guy Jean Baptiste who he seemed to have an epic rivalry with and Kurt found himself slowly lulled by Blaine's bubbly warmth.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Blaine broke off suddenly. "You look dead on your feet and here I am carrying on and on. Let's get you to bed."

Kurt didn't even try to protest.

***

Three awkward run-ins at the bathroom when Kurt was in his boxers and work shirt later and Blaine was clued into the fact that Kurt didn't really have a large variety of clothes, let alone pajamas. He pushed an extra pair onto Kurt and then kept conveniently leaving large bags full of clothing "too big for him to wear" by the door to give away to the Goodwill, telling Kurt to take whatever he wanted from the piles.

***

The thing was, Blaine was good. He was very good. Had Kurt not spent so much time around Rachel and Santana and had heard about their different watcher relationships from the beginning, he would have been completely oblivious and would've assumed that Blaine was just some kind, wonderful soul.

But there were a couple of small things that really clued Kurt in. One was that Blaine was very attentive. And he meant very attentive. There wasn't a single detail he would miss. He took in everything and processed it all with borderline brutal efficiency.

Another was that he knew his stories a little too well. He never deviated or attempted to embellish details. And he had a knack for having perfect conversation skills with his excellent recall.

And he never let Kurt be in his room alone.

***

"Okay Berry, you had your turn last time, it's my turn now," Santana said, turning to march across the floor, her Steve Madden heels echoing throughout the loft as she went on a warpath towards Kurt. "Hummel, we told you very explicitly to stay away from your little watcher and you moved in with him?"

"Wait, what happened to Adam?" Elliot frowned, lifting his head from his desk.

"Yes, Kurt," Rachel marched out of the kitchen, wine glass tipped at a dangerous angle. "What did happen to Adam?"

Kurt groaned, rubbing his temples. "We broke up like two months ago."

"What?"

"And you're just now telling us?" Santana's hands planted on her hips and Kurt knew he was in for a blowout.

"Yes, I am just now telling you," Kurt snapped, standing. "Because it is my life and my business!"

"How are we supposed to trust you if you've been lying to us for the past two months?" Santana yelled. "How do we know you haven't gone into cahoots with your little watcher?"

"Oh, like you two can even talk, you're both sleeping with yours!"

"Yeah, but we tell everyone everything about ours. You on the other hand, have been Mr. Secretive from day one."

"Oh, have I?" Kurt threw up his hands.

Santana clenched her jaw. "Well, you never did answer about going into cahoots with your watcher."

"For fuck's sake, I'm not in cahoots with Blaine!" Kurt said, exasperated. "Besides, he's not as bad as Brody--"

"Not as bad." Santana walked forward, until their noses were almost touching. "Kurt, they're all the same. Everyone who’s interested in hurting us is the same. Or have you forgotten Brittany?"

Kurt looked away. "This isn't about Britt--"

"Oh my god," Rachel hiccuped from Elliot's desk. "You like him, don't you?"

Kurt felt his neck grow hot. "Isn't that the point?"

“You’re not supposed to actually like him!”

“Oh please, I know for a fact that you like Brody, Rachel, and you definitely like Dani, Santana,” Kurt snapped. “So both of you need to back off.”

"No.” Santana grabbed his chin and yanked it back to face her. “Because Rachel and I? We don't lose track of the endgame. We know what's at stake. We know how everything will end, and we’re prepared to drop them at a moment’s notice. You, on the other hand, apparently need a reminder."

He didn't see her hand reach down to the strap around her thigh, but he saw the blade a half second before it sliced through his arm.

"Shit!" he yelled, hand shooting up to press against the wound, trying to keep the blood from spilling over, but it was too late. Three drops of the molten gold liquid hit the ground. "What the fuck Santana?"

"That is why he's in your life, Kurt," she snapped, cleanly wiping the blade with a tissue. "That is his interest in you, as well as these things on our backs."

"Fuck you, Santana," he shoved past her, heading out the door.

***

"Are you okay?" Blaine said, catching sight of the large bandage wrapped around his arm.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, feeling jittery and strung out. "Just an accident at work. I broke a coffee cup and cut myself. It's no big deal."

"Let me see." Blaine's hands went to the bandage and Kurt pulled back sharply.

"No! I mean, it's fine, I just need to leave it alone for a few days and it should heal up fine." His skin felt restless and his back was aching even more than usual. "I'm just--I'm going to go to bed, okay?"

Blaine nodded, a worried frown still on his face as Kurt left the kitchen.

Curling into a ball under the blankets on the couch, Kurt shut his eyes tightly even as hot tears squeezed their way through. He hated Santana for cutting him and being such a bitch. But he hated himself more because he knew she was right.

***

He woke up later that evening in a slight panic as he reached around blindly for his work uniform.

“Hey, hey...” Blaine’s voice soothed as the lamp turned on. He was standing by the couch, pink-cheeked and still in his overcoat, laden with steaming bags. “It’s okay, I called into work for you and told them you were injured.”

“You did what?” Kurt frowned, sitting up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Kurt, you can’t serve tables with an injured arm,” Blaine shrugged like it was obvious.

He was still sleepy and confused, but he felt anger well up from his stomach, abrupt and hot. “I can serve tables just fine,” he said irritably, still casting around for his shirt. “Where are my clothes, I need to go.”

“Kurt, you can’t--”

“I can, Blaine!” Kurt snapped as he stood. “I can do whatever I want because it’s my business, not yours.”

“Kurt, what’s wrong--”

“You don’t just get to call into work for me!” Kurt exploded, the cut on his arm suddenly feeling like it was burning and then freezing. “That’s not your place, you’re not my boyfriend.”

Blaine opened his mouth before thinking better of it, glancing to the side. “I’m sorry--”

Kurt was already halfway out the door.

***

The alcohol in his stomach sloshed in rhythm to the heavy beat of the club as his body undulated back and forth in the sea of people. So he hadn’t ended up going to work anyway. Sue him. He’d been facing a panic attack and it was the only place close by that didn’t card him and that he hadn’t told Blaine about.

The lights glared quickly from magenta to blue to green to black light and back. He wasn’t often one for clubbing, but it was a nice state of mind to be in--a stasis where he didn’t have to think about anything happening in his life beyond the music throbbing in his ear drums.

Different sets of hands touched his body as he danced his way through the crowd but he was hardly in any state of mind to care. Someone spun him around a bit too fast however, and he had to pause, fighting the urge to vomit. He shoved his way through the crowd to head to the bathroom.

The fluorescent lights burned his eyes as he bumped his hip sharply on the sink, stumbling over to an incredibly graffitied yet still functional urinal to empty his bladder. Tucking himself back in he side-stepped back over to the sink to look at his reflection in the mirror, that flickered due to the dying lights overhead.

He had gained back some weight since living with Blaine, but there were still dark splotches above his cheekbones and his eyes were a bit too bright and his lips too chapped and his hair too wild. He looked down at the bandage on his arm and pulled the top down a bit, the permanent gold  scar sealed on his skin. He’d felt it do it earlier when he’d been yelling at Blaine.

The bathroom door banged open and he jerked the bandage back up.

Some guy in a Santa Claus hat stumbled in, looking around before his eyes locked on Kurt at the sink. They lit up. “There you are. Been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

Kurt stared at his reflection in the mirror. “Me?”

“Yeah,” the guy grinned lazily, walking up behind him and putting his hands on his hips. “I saw you dancing out there. It was hot.” He attached his lips to the side of Kurt’s neck.

Well, at least he was forward.

Kurt shut his eyes, leaning against the sink because why not. He’d drunk enough. And it was just a one time thing. Santa wasn’t his boyfriend so he didn’t even have to take off his shirt, he just had to shove down his pants.

Santa’s hands started creeping up the back of his shirt and he reached back and took them out. It didn’t deter him--he moved them around to go up the front of his shirt and Kurt let him. He’d always wanted someone to touch him. For a while, he thought it’d be Adam, but he hadn’t understood and Kurt hadn’t been willing to take the risk of explaining everything.

And so he was stuck with a two am encounter in a club bathroom. But that was fine. Because he’d always wanted to be touched, right?

Blaine’s face flashed in his mind and he hated himself for it.

There was something he wanted more than being touched.

“Stop,” he croaked, his throat uncomfortably dry. Santa didn’t seem to be paying attention however, as he moved to undo Kurt’s trousers. “Hey, stop.”

“Mmm. Why?” Santa groaned against Kurt’s neck as he ran his hands up his chest.

Kurt shook his head and it felt like the entire room was tipping. “Just stop. I don’t want this.”

“Of course you want this,” Santa laughed. “No one dances like you were dancing out there unless they’re gagging to be bent over and fucked.” He grabbed Kurt’s hips, grinding into his ass.

Kurt grabbed his hands and shoved them off, pushing away from the sink. “I said  _no_.”

Santa just kept smiling at him, his eyes bright and reflecting the fluorescents in an odd way, his protruding veins casting eerie shadows. “Come on, no one likes a tease.”

“You’re high,” Kurt said firmly. “I’m drunk. This isn’t happening.” He turned to walk out.

Santa grabbed his arm and shoved him against the wall. “You’re not flying.” Kurt froze instinctively at the strange choice of words. It was the split second needed for him to be pinned against the wall. “I have some stuff that’ll make you fly.”

“Let me go,” Kurt said, trying not to let the panic into his voice.

“You’re gonna love it,” Santa grinned, leaning in close. “It’ll be perfect. You won’t feel a thing.”

Images of horror stories and lab tables and needles being injected flashed through Kurt’s mind and then he was yelling, screaming, thrashing wildly against the other guy. His limbs were everywhere, hitting, flailing, kicking, and in the fray the bandage on his arm was loosened and he smacked his arm against Santa’s jaw.

There was a loud hissing noise and suddenly Santa was flung back against the sink, the mirror bashed in, and a large gash across his cheek.

Kurt stared, gasping out breaths as he tried to calm himself. Names flashed through his mind--Rachel, Santana, Elliot, work, anyone or anywhere he could run to, but it settled on one: Home.

And so he turned and headed back to the club floor, fighting his way to the exit.

***

Kurt got to Union Square Park before he stopped running, leaning against a concrete slab as he vomited all over the snowy curb, body shaking. Tremors shook him to the core as his mind panicked over his next move. He could just disappear again. He could do that. Everything would be fine.

Elliot would lend him the money. He’d always been a good friend.

He’d find work somehow, and send everything back to his dad.

Maybe after a few months, he could send Rachel and Santana a letter.

It all sounded perfectly logical and rational in his mind, but there was one factor that kept shoving its way to the forefront, blaring louder than anything else.

Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine BLAINE.

He should go and say goodbye.

No, he really shouldn’t. That would be a terrible idea.

Blaine was the enemy. Blaine didn’t care for him. He wasn’t a friend and he  certainly wasn’t a boyfriend. He was a bad guy.

But what if he wasn’t?

No. No, that was a bad train of thought to follow. That was dangerous. That was wishful thinking that could go horribly awry. That was the type of thinking that would get him killed. Or worse--drugged up in some lab for experiments.

But what if he wasn’t?

Nice guys like Blaine who were well-off and charming and talented didn’t just randomly pop up in Kurt’s life and take him in. He was sent to watch Kurt. That was it.

But what if he wasn’t?

Kurt slammed his head against the concrete--not enough to break skin, but enough to bruise. “Blaine’s part of some corporation that wants to truss you up, Hummel. You can’t trust him.”

But oh god, what if he could? It didn’t even make sense in the first place, because how had they even found out about Kurt? He’d been beyond below the radar.

What if Blaine really was just some guy?

What if he was just some nice guy who honestly just thought of Kurt as a friend?

Or what if he was a spy, willing to do whatever it cost to keep an eye on Kurt?

Or...what if he was just some nice guy, but he also maybe could be falling for Kurt the way Kurt was falling--

Oh fuck.

Kurt leaned his head against the concrete, similar to the way he’d found Blaine leaning against the bookshelf when they first met.

“Fuck,” he whispered into the freezing air.

***

It was three in the morning before he got back to Blaine’s apartment. All the lights were still on.

He walked through the front door to find Blaine in his favorite armchair, curled up in his olive wool pajamas and his big chunky glasses he always wore at night when he took out his contacts. He stood immediately when Kurt walked in, looking like he was about to walk over to him before he paused, stopping himself.

“Blaine--”

“Don’t,” Blaine shook his head. “Not yet, I--I mean, you must be freezing. I have some warm milk on the stove if you want.”

Kurt shifted from foot to foot before nodding and Blaine gave him a single nod back, inclining with his head towards the couch. Kurt pulled the blanket around his arms as he kicked off his shoes, tucking his legs under him.

Blaine came back with an owl-shaped mug and handed it to Kurt gingerly. Kurt took a large sip and immediately felt warmer. His eyes started to sting because Blaine had added honey and cardamom, the same way his mother had used to make it. He vaguely remembered telling him that once during a late diner shift. He hadn’t thought that Blaine had remembered.

“Can I go first?” Blaine asked quietly as he took a seat next to Kurt. Kurt nodded, and he continued, directing his speech to his hands. “Kurt, I was...I’m sorry, first of all. You’re right, I overstepped my boundaries and that was wrong of me. I should have asked you first.

“But...” He licked his lips and glanced up from his hands to Kurt. His eyes were wet. “Kurt, please don’t run off like that again. If you want to leave, I completely understand, but you didn’t even have a coat and it’s freezing out there and I didn’t know where you were or if you were ever coming back and I was so worried about something happening to you and I don’t even know where you’re from or your last name and it was like you were about to just disappear from my life and there’d be no way for me to find you or make sure you’re alright and I know I’m not your boyfriend or anyone important to you, but you’re just so important to me and--”

He broke off.

Kurt just broke.

He put down his milk and cupped Blaine’s face and kissed him.

Because Blaine had just told him that he was important to him. And that was either a beautiful lie or a grounding truth. So Blaine could pull away in surprise and Kurt could make up excuses about being in the moment and he’d know Blaine was genuine.

Or...

Or he could do something incredibly stupid. Because if Blaine was his watcher, he would do anything Kurt wanted to stay by his side. He would be anything Kurt wanted.

And there was something he wanted more than being touched. He wanted to be cared for, cherished, adored.

He wanted to be loved.

So he held Blaine’s face tenderly in his own and kissed him, because it was Blaine, it was always going to be Blaine, there was nothing else it could’ve been but Blaine. If there was someone he could actively trust to break his heart, it would be Blaine.

Because no matter what happened--if he tried to walk away, or if Blaine was clueless and didn’t love him, or if Blaine knew everything and pretended to--he was going to get his heart broken regardless.

Blaine pulled back, his cheeks flushed and his glasses slightly crooked.

Kurt blinked, surprised, a quick lie bubbling up to his lips, but before it could surface, Blaine whipped off his glasses and grabbed Kurt abruptly by the jaw, falling back into the kiss.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and smiled, tears streaking down his cheeks. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Blaine sighed into his lips.

“Tell me you care about me.”

Blaine started pressing kisses in a trail down his neck, lingering over the fluttering pulse point on his neck. “I care about you so much, Kurt. God, you haven’t even known this whole time, have you? I worship you.” The tip of his tongue came out to press briefly against the point on his neck before Blaine kissed his way back up to his lips. He brushed a few limp locks of hair out of Kurt’s face.

Kurt stared into his large hazel eyes, trying to figure out if Blaine was telling the truth or not. And then he realized something very dangerous.

He didn’t care.

Because this was everything he’d ever wanted and he could push as far as he wanted, because any hesitance from Blaine would just be solid proof that he was genuine. And not pulling back, it could go either way. So Kurt was completely fine with pushing this as far as he wanted it to go.

He lunged forward, his hands going to Blaine’s waist as he pinned him down against the couch. He was still freezing from outside and there was still alcohol making his mind fuzzy, but Blaine was warm and soft and smelled like fresh linen and cardamom and Kurt wanted to curl up inside of him and never leave.

One of Blaine’s arms snaked around to his back and he found himself with his back pressed to the back of the couch, Blaine crowding in close to kiss down to his collarbone. His hands started moving everywhere, over Kurt’s chest, across his shoulders, down his arms--

Santa guy’s face suddenly loomed large behind Kurt’s eyelids as he arm was grabbed--

Kurt shoved Blaine back half a foot, the abrupt lack of proximity jarring for the both of them. Looking incredibly flushed and messy, Blaine’s eyes glanced around for a few seconds before he licked his shiny lips. “What’s wrong?”

Kurt tried to move his arm surreptitiously back as he attempted to come up with a brief lie, but Blaine’s eyes caught the movement and his brow furrowed as he reached over to pull his wrist closer for inspection.

There were the beginnings of yellow bruises on his arm.

“What are these?” Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt hadn’t realized that they’d bruised. He’d have to wear long sleeves for the next day or so to hid the fact that they wouldn’t turn purple.

“What happened?” Blaine spoke again, his voice louder and with an edge that Kurt had never heard in it before.

“Just some idiot at a club,” Kurt shrugged. “It’s fine--”

“Kurt.”

“Blaine,” Kurt repeated. “Look, I just...I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Blaine looked like he wanted to discuss the subject more, but he sighed, nodding and standing. “Okay. Just...um, get some rest, alright? And I...we should talk. In the morning. About stuff.” Blaine had turned very pink.

“Definitely,” Kurt smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Alright um well...” Blaine leaned down suddenly to peck Kurt on the forehead. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

He turned and walked maybe a bit too quickly to his room. Door slamming maybe a little too loud. And there was definitely a muffled squealing noise from the other side for a good fifteen seconds.

Kurt covered his mouth as his own giggles surfaced.

And for a moment, he was just young and silly and in love.

-

They didn’t so much as talk the next morning as Blaine interrupted Kurt’s “Good mor--” by grabbing his face and kissing him soundly.

Kurt smiled broadly into the kiss, hands going to Blaine’s hips as he tugged him into his lap. Blaine was all too happy to oblige, straddling Kurt snuggly and tilting his face at a certain angle as to deepen the kiss. 

Kurt could count the number of people who’d kissed him on one hand. There’d been Brittany, way back in the day when they’d first found out and he thought he should be with someone like, well...himself, but that had died after one kiss. Then Dave Karofsky, his high school tormentor who’d found out his secret in the end and caused him to run from town. Then a guy named Eric in a club when he was really drunk, and finally Adam, his boyfriend of almost eight months.

Brittany’s kisses had been sticky and fairly dull. Karofsky’s had been terrifying. Eric’s he hardly remembered. Adam’s had been sweet and nice until they’d started to become a means to an end.

Blaine’s though... Blaine’s kisses were electrifying. It felt like all of Kurt’s nerve endings were suddenly buzzing like bees and the usually uncomfortable areas on his back started heating up and warming and humming. He had no idea what that meant, but as long as he was able to press Blaine back against the table, he pretty much didn’t care.

-

Kurt had never really been in love.

There’d been brief infatuations, of course. Short periods of lust. Long periods of like. But most of his life had just been fear, and worry, and a whole lot of anger. He felt love for his father, certainly, who was back home in Lima with his new family. And he’d greatly loved his mother before she’d passed. And he supposed he did hold some love for Rachel and Santana.

But Blaine was the first time he’d ever properly been in love.

And it was wonderful. He’d come home from work or Blaine would come home from school and there’d just be kissing. Endless kissing. Rolling around on the couch or pressed against the fridge. And instead of politely pulling back like he would with Adam, he found himself lurching forward for more, physically and emotionally.

There was an edge to everything though. Because Kurt wanted to push Blaine’s buttons, wanted to go too far until he was rebuked. Because so far, everything he’d wanted to do, Blaine had seemed up for, without question. And he wished that Blaine would just pull back and refuse him so he could know that the feelings were real. Because he was either as madly in love with Kurt as he seemed to be, or just utterly playing him to keep him close, and Kurt really wanted to figure out which it was before he stopped caring altogether.

-

It was the little things he loved about Blaine.

Like how he always kept the fridge stocked full of San Pellegrino sodas in neat colorful rows.

Or that all his elbow pads were hand-sewn by his aunt.

Or that he always spent the exact same amount of time on his hair (sixteen minutes).

Or that he always had to have olives on his pizza.

Or how his eyes would always stay closed an extra second after they’d pull away from a kiss.

But it was the big things he loved too.

Like Blaine’s voice belting out in the shower every morning and singing his way through breakfast.

Or that whenever Kurt was feeling a bit shaky, he just somehow knew and would wrap him in his arms and hold on until the panic passed.

Or the endless endearments he’s breathe across Kurt’s skin, causing the hairs on his back to rise up.

Or...when things had gotten suddenly heavy and urgent and Kurt hand stopped them cold in the middle of the living room floor, citing that he wasn’t ready, and might never be ready for sex, Blaine just nodding and assuring him that was fine, and offering to pop in a movie.

It was that he felt safe and secure with Blaine in a way that he hadn’t felt in years, if at all in his life. When Blaine would flop down on top of him and bury his cold nose into his neck after a long day. Or when he’d snuggle Kurt while watching a movie, or when he’d go out at any hour of the night just to grab Kurt a slice of his favorite raspberry hazelnut chocolate chunk cheesecake.

It was the best feeling in the world.

-

But one Friday afternoon, he got the call from Santana.

“We have to leave.”

Kurt blinked at the abruptness. “What?”

“We have to go right now we’re in so much trouble--”

“Santana, Santana!” Kurt yelled, pacing through the small triangular corner park. “Slow down! Explain.”

“Elliot followed Brody,” she rushed out. “And he overheard him on the phone. Apparently all watchers are to take in their subjects this Sunday. Dani’s already asked me if I want to go away to Long Island with her this weekend and from the sound of it, Brody’s just going to grab Rachel in the dead of the night. We’re waiting for the right moment, and then we have to split.”

Kurt’s mind reeled from the influx of information.

“You should be fine though, because you’ve kept away from Blaine, right?”

Kurt leaned against the freezing metal gate along the park.

“Right, Kurt?”

Kurt licked his lips. “Do you know for certain that he’s a part of this?”

“Kurt!”

“Santana! Do you know for certain? Did Brody say any names?”

There was a brief silence. “No.”

“Then it could have nothing to do with him.”

“Do you really want to take that risk? Kurt, think about what they’ll do to us.”

He was, and that thought was terrifying him. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re gonna hide their phones Saturday and Rachel’s gonna drug Brody. I’m gonna knock out Dani and we’ll both leave them tied up. Then we’ll all take off at midnight. Meet up in Jersey City, like last time, then drive.”

“Where to?”

“Not sure yet. Probably south. Are you coming?”

Kurt hesitated, looking back towards Blaine’s street. On the one hand, if Blaine wasn’t in on all this, he could just stay with him. On the other hand...he’d learned a long time ago it was better safe than sorry.

“Kurt?”

But Blaine made him feel safe.

But Blaine could be playing him.

But Blaine...

“Kurt!”

“Sorry. Yeah, I’ll be coming.”

“You need a way to get away from Blaine.”

“Santana--”

“No, listen to me. You’re right, he could have nothing to do with this. But you have to be prepared either way. Get his cellphone away from him all of tomorrow and find a way to distract him so he doesn’t go looking for it. We can’t have them communicating. Just to be safe.”

“I...okay, I think I can do that,” Kurt nodded, swallowing heavily. “I just...um...okay yes. Yes. Distract him tomorrow, slip out at night, meet up in Jersey City at midnight, right?”

“Yep, that’s everything.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you then. And Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“Please be careful.”

-

He was sitting on the couch when Blaine got home, carrying in groceries.

“Hey, we’ve been cooped up in here for a while, haven’t we?” Blaine said suddenly, rifling through the eggplants.

Kurt grew very still. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Well then, how about tomorrow, you and I get out of here?” Blaine grinned, looking up with bright eyes at Kurt.

Kurt’s stomach sank into his boots. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s go out for lunch!” Blaine grinned. “There’s this little sandwich shop over by Union Square that I love. We could walk over there tomorrow, grab some lunch, maybe a book or two at the Strand?”

Relief filled Kurt instantaneously. “Yeah, that’d be--wait a moment, Blaine Anderson. Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Well...” Blaine turned to lean against his counter. “What if I am?”

“Well then...” Kurt dragged out, walking up close to Blaine to press a quick peck to his lips. “I think you’d find yourself accepted.”

-

The sandwich shop was warm and cozy and crowded that Saturday afternoon as Kurt and Blaine shared apple-turkey-brie sandwiches and a bottle of white wine.

It was the kind of silly romantic moment that warmed Kurt’s heart as Blaine pulled goofy faces in a retelling of a mime class incident, a smudge of raspberry mustard in the corner of his mouth. He forgot that he was supposed to get his hands on Blaine’s phone somehow and hide it for the next twelve hours and distract him in some way, and that he was a twenty year old on the run, and that everything could fall apart at any second, because there was no place he’d rather be in that moment than in that little sandwich shop with Blaine.

So he leaned forward and kissed the raspberry mustard off of his mouth with a smile.

“Kurt?”

Kurt froze, pulling back from the kiss as he turned and saw a familiar blond head covered in a beanie ordering at the counter.

His voice came out a bit thin. “Adam. Hey. Long time, no see.”

The last time he’d seen him was when Adam had slammed a door in his face.

“Right,” Adam said, but he wasn’t looking at Kurt. He was looking at Blaine, who was watching the exchange with mild confusion and interest.

“Um, Blaine, this is Adam, my um...old friend--”

Adam snorted. “Really, Kurt? Old friend?”

“Adam, this is Blaine, my--”

“Boyfriend,” Blaine supplied, shoulders visibly tenser. Kurt blinked in surprise at the title.

“Really?” Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “And how long has that been a thing?”

“Adam--”

“Because I saw you at The Fringe three weeks ago with half of the club’s hands all over you.”

A light sweat broke out at Kurt’s temples as he recalled the events of that night. Of the Santa guy in the bathroom and--

“Three weeks, actually,” Blaine cut across.

“And he’s already let you kiss him? Well that’s a miracle--”

“Adam.”

“What?” Adam shrugged, the hurt plain across his face. “I thought I was just your old friend.”

“Those were your words, not mine,” Kurt snapped, his patience waning. “Remember? When you put me out on the street?”

“You’re the one who threw around the word boyfriend when you never wanted to go out and you’d shy away from me when we’d stay in, but you kept insisting that you were my boyfriend, not just some freeloader--” He cut off, turning to Blaine. “Is he living with you too? Pulling the hot and cold routine? This guy is trouble--”

“I don’t--” Blaine stood. “--appreciate you talking about my boyfriend that way.”

“Do you think you’re special?” Adam asked, taking a step forward. “Just because he’s stopped going to work as much and spending more time with you--”

“Excuse me?” Kurt cut across. “How do you know I haven’t been working as much recently?”

Adam froze, opening his mouth. “I--”

Kurt opened his mouth to interrupt him before another thing occurred to him.

Adam had never gone out clubbing, yet he saw him at the Fringe? “Have you been following me?”

Red shot up around Adam’s ears. “Why would I be following you?”

And then it all clicked together in Kurt’s mind.

“You tell me,” he shot back.

Adam had always just sort of been...there. He’d always been around from the start.

And now, even when he thought he’d been rid of him, he was still around.

“You know what? Whatever, Kurt. Do what you want.” Adam turned and marched out of the shop.

The regular buzz of the cafe filled the silence as Blaine turned to Kurt with eyes surprised and ambivalent. He cleared his throat. “So do you want to--”

Blaine’s voice faded into a muffled hum as Kurt’s mind reeled from the information starting to fire across it at rapid speed, and as his eyes moved around, trying to focus on something, he spotted a familiar brown leather wallet and black iPhone still on the counter.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said distractedly, interrupting Blaine as he stood hastily, hand sweeping across the counter to snatch the two items as he headed towards the back.

Once inside, he hastily locked the door, leaning his forehead against the grain of the wood.

What if he’d been wrong?

What if...

He turned the phone on. Adam had changed his passcode since he’d seen him last, but that didn’t stop him from being able to cut the power.

And there was over a hundred dollars in the wallet, which would come in handy later tonight when--

Tonight.

Kurt turned and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Eyes bright, face pale, lips very pink. Blaine’s green scarf was wrapped around his neck.

He was leaving tonight.

He was leaving Blaine.

Blaine, who it looked like had nothing to do with this in the first place, because it couldn’t be just coincidence that Adam had shown up today of all days back in Kurt’s life again, especially considering that he’d been following him this whole time.

Which meant that Blaine...

Blaine really did--

There came a soft knock at the door. “Kurt?” Blaine’s voice floated in from the other side. “Kurt, are you okay? I just wanted to--”

Kurt scrambled to unlock the door and pull Blaine inside, kissing him firmly.

Blaine let out a surprised squawk before his hands came up to the top of Kurt’s shoulders. He pulled back. “Kurt? What’s...”

Kurt smiled. “Let’s go back home.”

-

It was the first time he’d ever been in Blaine’s room. It was painted a soothing forest green and he had a great deal of oak furniture. He was sitting on the edge of Blaine’s bed, and Blaine was currently leaning down to kiss him, softly and with great care. A warm bubbling sensation spread from his lips through his whole body and he felt so...safe.

Blaine had always made him feel safe and secure, the only person who truly made him feel that way, ever since he’d run away from Ohio.

But when his hand went to the edge of Kurt’s long-sleeved pullover, Kurt froze, hand halting Blaine’s wrist.

Blaine’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push, we don’t have to--”

“You didn’t,” Kurt reassured him. “I just...” The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to confess. But he faltered, and went with half-truths. “I...I have scars. On my back, and a recent one on my arm, and--”

“I don’t mind them, Kurt,” Blaine said quietly, tilting his head up so their eyes met.

Kurt smiled sadly. “But I mind. So could I...could I just keep it on or--”

“Oh, of course,” Blaine said hurriedly, framing Kurt’s face and pressing kisses all over it. “Yes, of course sweetheart, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt shook his head. “And could we do...nothing fancy? I just want to feel you. If that’s okay.”

Blaine answered with a kiss, and then there was scrambling to rid themselves of their pants, leaving their underwear on.  

A lot of movement and heavy breathing followed.

Kurt laid against Blaine’s soft bed, perfectly happy to be pressed further and further into the cottony sheets as Blaine’s body slid over his, halting and grinding, with Blaine alternating between sucking kisses on the curve of his neck, and whispering encouragements under his ear.

And god, everything felt so good. His eyebrows furrowed as a loud rumbling moan pushed its way out of his throat, and he hitched up his right leg--oh god, he still had his socks on--to swivel his hips closer to Blaine’s.

Afterward they laid on their backs, undershirts sweaty and underwear uncomfortable and Kurt opened his mouth.

“I met Adam at a coffee shop. He was sweet and I liked him and...well, back then I was staying with some friends but the commute to work was long, so when he offered for me to stay with him...well, I accepted.”

Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, but Kurt wouldn’t look at him.

“And he was really nice and I thought that...that dating him could bring something normal to my life, but I didn’t take into account all of my baggage and that maybe Adam wouldn’t want to take it on so...I agreed to a relationship without realizing that maybe my definition and conditions of such weren’t entirely compatible with his.”

Blaine laced their fingers together and Kurt finally tilted his head to look at him.

“I um,” his voice was getting a bit raspy as his throat choked up a bit. “I had some heavy stuff happen to me a while back. I don’t like going out much. And I could be really cagey about touch, which he didn’t understand. So we just kinda...you know, fell apart. He was convinced that I was just staying with him so I didn’t have to pay rent, and when he wanted proof that I wasn’t...well, I couldn’t reciprocate the way he wanted, so he turned me out.”

Blaine ran his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “Is that why you were sleeping in bookshops when we first met?”

Kurt bit his lip. “There were a few friends that I couldn’t stayed with, but I was scared.”

Blaine turned on his side, pulling Kurt to face him. “What were you scared of?”

Kurt opened his mouth and then closed it. “There are...things from my past. I ran away from home.”

“Bad home life?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “It was just me and my dad. I miss him every day. It’s...complicated. I don’t talk about it much, sorry. But I...ever since, I never really felt like I could just...be still somewhere and settle down. I always felt that I had to keep moving.”

“Felt?” Blaine asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Kurt leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Felt,” he repeated softly. “Until...well, now.”

Blaine rolled his forehead along Kurt’s to an angle where their lips could meet.

***

Eventually they peeled themselves apart for a shower.

Blaine went first, kissing Kurt at the bathroom door before firmly shutting it in place.

Kurt smiled, touching his lips as he waltzed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

It was already getting late, judging by the time on the stove, and that’s when everything came rushing back to him.

Midnight. Tonight. Jersey City.

His hand fell down to the counter as he was filled with a sudden overwhelming sense of loss.

He had to leave. Adam may have been dealt with temporarily, but he’d probably try and find him again tomorrow.

But...he didn’t want to leave.

The faces of Rachel and Santana and Elliot flashed through his mind. They needed him. Rachel and Santana...they were the only ones who really understood. They were the only ones who could empathize, and Elliot had been wonderful with helping them all along.

They were like his sisters. He couldn’t just leave them.

The sound of the shower was still running, so he moved over to the couch, to pack everything up into his duffle bag.

Blaine left the shower door open when he was finished, and Kurt went in, making sure to bring his pajamas. He quickly shucked off his clothing, pointedly ignoring the fleeting glimpses of the side of his back that he saw in the mirror, before climbing into the steamy tub.

The water ran down his back in warm welcome rivulets, washing away the evidence of his and Blaine’s afternoon together. It took him awhile to realize that he was crying in addition to the water running down his face.

He didn’t want to go.

He didn’t really have a choice.

He stood under the spray until it started to turn lukewarm before he finally shut off the water. Toweling himself dry, he stared at his expression in the mirror and tried to school it into something more believably happy.

There were only a few hours he had left with Blaine, after all. He wanted to make the best of them.

Blaine was sitting on the edge of his bed when he got out of the bathroom. He looked up at Kurt, expression distracted, as he tugged him forward suddenly, burying his face into Kurt’s stomach.

Kurt blinked in surprise. “Blaine?”

Blaine let out a long rushing breath. “It’s just...” he tilted his head up and smiled, but it seemed a bit sad, and he kissed each of Kurt’s wrists poking out from his dark red sleeves. “I really care about you, you know?”

The words were right there. He opened his mouth to ask Blaine to come with him, to drop everything, to tell him everything, and they could just run away with the others.

He closed his mouth. Blaine had a life. Blaine had a future, and one that most definitely didn’t have Kurt in it, no matter which way any of this panned out. And...he was separate from what was happening, and Kurt wanted to keep it that way.

Maybe one day, he could come back. He didn’t expect Blaine to be waiting, and he wasn’t selfish enough to ask. But he’d still want to see him just once more.

Oh god, what if he never saw Blaine again?

Throat closing up, he let out a strangled, “I care about you too,” before falling into Blaine’s arms, burrowing his face into the crook of his neck.

-

Kurt pretended to doze off with Blaine, but he kept on his side, staring at the red numbers of Blaine’s alarm clock. Blaine fell asleep just before ten. At ten forty-five, he lost his nerve and shut his eyes, wanting to forget everything and drop into sleep. At eleven oh-three, his eyes shot open again at the thought of being strapped to a cold metal table and Blaine somehow getting mixed up in everything when they’d come to grab him.

He turned in bed and Blaine was fast asleep, his long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks and his sweet mouth parted.

Kurt stared at him for another twenty minutes before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “Goodbye,” he whispered quietly, as he silently rolled out of bed.

Quietly padding through the apartment and careful not to turn on any lights, he pulled on his boots and fetched his duffle bag from the side of the couch. He took one last moment to look around the small apartment that had been his sanctuary for the past several week and sighed.

His coat was the last thing he grabbed from the closet, pulling it on quickly and moving over towards the door. He held his breath as he slid the noisy deadbolt into the unlocked position, before quickly doing the handle, reaching forward to open it.

Something cold and solid pressed against the back of his head.

Kurt froze, mouth half open, and for a solid two seconds, he was utterly confused.

Then realization settled deep into his bones. He’d thought that his heart had been breaking in half earlier, but now it was just shattering into a million pieces.

He closed his eyes, resignation making him weary, before he turned, opening his them again to the sight of Blaine holding a gun to his head.

“Going somewhere, Kurt?” Blaine asked quietly, his expression focused, brows heavy. He was still in his pajamas.  

Kurt’s knees were shaking like they were going to give out. He’d been so stupid, he hadn’t grabbed Blaine’s phone, so he likely knew what had happened with Brody and Dani. “I never left you alone all day, when did you--”

“Your shower,” Blaine replied. “They said that Lopez and Berry had fled with an accomplice. They wanted me to bring you in there and then, but no, I said that you weren’t a part of it. That you would comply. That you wouldn’t try to run. I vouched for you.”

The shaking got worse but some of it was from anger now. “What on earth made you think that I would comply?”

“I don’t know, self preservation?” Blaine snapped and Kurt flinched. “I thought that maybe you were coming around that--” He broke off, looking like he was literally biting his tongue. He sighed, his tone shifting into something a bit more pleading. “Kurt please. If you give up Lopez and Berry, then I could maybe get a deal--”

“You’re sick,” Kurt said, feeling ill. “And to think that I--” He cut himself off. No, he wasn’t going down that route. Blaine didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing his feelings.  “Was everything a lie? Do you even attend NYADA or do you just leave every dayto follow me around?”

Blaine stared at him for a second before relenting. They’d both figured out that talking was the best way to keep the other occupied while they both tried to run recon with their opposing plans.

“I’m a geneticist with the company. I had enough combat training to apply for field work. We're given covers, so yes. I was at NYADA most of the time, though occasionally I would report in on you.”

A scientist. That somehow made everything so much worse because Kurt’s recurring nightmare image of being strapped to a table with a nameless doctor pulling out a scalpel was suddenly replaced with Blaine leaning over him with a scalpel. And “field work”. Like he was a grad school project. That he was giving reports on. 

Kurt felt like he was going to throw up.

“Well what was your assignment? To drag me in, kicking and screaming?” Kurt asked dryly.

“No, it was to retrieve all the samples.”

Samples. He couldn’t even keep his personhood.

Kurt leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun. “You’d better shoot me then, Blaine. Because there’s no way I’m going to give up Santana and Rachel, and there’s no way in hell that I’m going to let you take me in. So you can either shoot me now, or I’ll force your hand.”

“Or...” Blaine leaned forward slightly. “I could knock you out.”

Kurt went numb. He hadn’t thought of that. Whatever “combat training” Blaine had, he could probably take him in a fight. Especially with Kurt covered in as many layers as he was. Flashes of tables and that bench in the locker room flew up briefly in front of his eyes until he blinked them away painfully.

“Blaine...” he tried, starting to panic. “Blaine, please, don’t, just...” He looked around wildly, tears coming. “Blaine, please let me go, if anything you felt for me was real--”

“Don’t you dare throw that back in my face!” Blaine yelled suddenly, the gun jabbing Kurt’s head back into the door. “I--you--I knew, okay? I knew that you were going to run. I tried reasoning with myself and everyone that you wouldn’t, but I knew that you--” Blaine broke off, a slight tremor going through his hand and his eyes going wide for a moment. “I knew that you were going to leave me. And I still--I didn’t care what it meant, that it would end, I still…”

“Blaine,” Kurt pleaded. “Please, Blaine. I...I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t have to, just please--”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!”

“Then prove it,” Blaine said, his voice cracking. “Prove me wrong. Prove Adam wrong. Just...just stay.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” Kurt shook his head. “Not you, it’s not fair!”

“Please, Kurt,” Blaine begged. “Please. Everything I said about you was real---”

“No!” Kurt cut across. “No, that’s not fair, okay? It’s not, you’re not supposed to actually feel something for me, that’s not how this goes--”

“It is how this goes,” Blaine said. “I’m invested, alright? I didn’t set out to be, but it would kill me if… Kurt, please. Please. I’m begging you. Just...please. For me.”

Kurt thought about it. He did for a few seconds. He imagined just giving in, giving Blaine everything that he wanted because… Well, because he loved him and because he was tired.

But the image of Rachel and Santana terrified and strapped down stopped him cold.

“I can’t be strapped down again, ” Kurt said with finality. “Please, Blaine, I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You stole company property!”

Kurt stared at him in disbelief before he snapped. “I. Am. Not. Property!”

There was a shift in Blaine’s expression as his eyebrows drew together briefly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that we’re people, Blaine!” Kurt yelled. “We deserve to be happy without having to worry about some company cutting us open and bleeding us out!”

His throat was starting to hurt and he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He was just so sick and angry and scared and Blaine--

Blaine still looked confused. “Kurt...what are you talking about?”

Kurt stared. Blaine wasn’t reacting like he thought he would, Blaine didn’t seem--

Blaine didn’t seem to know…

“Blaine…” Kurt said slowly. “What...what was it that they told you that we stole?”

Blaine was silent for a moment before replying. “Important genetic samples. My assignment was to assess if you had acquired any, based on your association with Lopez and Berry. Reportedly, you all were hoarding the stolen data somewhere, and we were hired to find out where.” He paused. “Kurt, what did you mean that you’re not property?”

Kurt felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Oh my...oh my god, you don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Kurt took a step forward. “Blaine...we didn’t steal genetic samples.”

“What do you--”

“We are the genetic samples.”

Blaine blinked, his eyebrows drawing together.

Kurt sighed, reaching down to pull his shirt off before turning around to show his back.

His back with the thousand small cuts in it, all to form one specific image of wings, and all of the cuts sealed with his blood. 

There was a pregnant silence. Then Kurt felt a hand, warm and familiar lightly touch the skin of his back.

It was a highly unfamiliar sensation. He could count on one hand the number of people who’d touched his bare back.

His mother, bathing him when he was little.  

Whoever had changed his back the night of prom.  **  
**

Rachel and Santana, when they found out later.

And now Blaine. Blaine who was gently tracing the solid lines of gold back and forth with careful fingers.

Kurt turned back around again, to Blaine’s stricken face, one hand still outstretched to touch, the other hanging limply at his side, the gun easily knocked out of it. He considered doing it, briefly, but the look on Blaine’s face gave him pause. The disbelief mixed with curiosity.

“I...” Blaine cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”

They ended up back in Blaine’s bedroom after Blaine had made sure all the shades were drawn shut. He turned back to Kurt, the gun now on the bedside table.

“What are you?” Blaine asked, right off the bat.

“I don’t know,” Kurt shrugged.

“What is...that?”

“Still don’t know,” Kurt said, folding his legs underneath him. “Figured that it was some sort of genetic anomaly. I mean, we weren’t always like this. For me it didn’t start until around puberty. I cut my finger and gold started coming out as well as blood. A few years later, the wounds would seal themselves permanently with gold.

“Junior year of high school, I accidentally walked in on a girl changing in the bathroom. Brittany. She was a cheerleader. She was like me, only she had a silver scar on her right side, instead of gold. She told me that her best friend was like us as well, and that was the first time I realized that I wasn’t alone.

“Towards our junior year when they propositioned her. The company. Offered her a position in their junior program. I figured that there would be people trying to figure out our secrets, so I managed to tell her not to reveal her hand just yet. Play them out for a bit. See what they knew. A shady corporation a predictable adversary.  

“I never anticipated the cult. I don’t know why the possibility never even crossed my mind, but it ended up completely blindsiding us. There was this...bully. He made my life a living hell, but then again, so did most of the football team. But he...was obsessed. He just kept coming after me again and again with the taunting and the shoving... Eventually I cracked and screamed him out and...he kissed me. I was so shocked that my body reacted involuntarily to the unwanted intrusion and threw him off. He got a cut on his shoulder. I didn’t even know that could happen.

“Then prom happened. I was voted prom queen by my peers and he was voted prom king. I ended up running out out of embarrassment and then something hit me. I woke up hours later next to Brittany, who was crying. She said that a bunch of men had grabbed her outside of the gym and brought her here. They’d cut wings into her back before doing the same to me while i was unconscious. Apparently Karofsky had told about us."

He paused, looking up at Blaine who looked vaguely ill. Licking his dry lips, he continued.

“I packed everything that night, after we ran. I tried convincing her to come with me, but she just wanted to feel safe. She was really shaken up by everything and I’d never seen her like that. She left, and ended up accepting the company’s offer.

“I made my way around on my own for a while. I never told my dad that I was leaving. Eventually I ended up here and I ran into Santana, who’d been Brittany’s childhood best friend, and she was like me. And then Rachel too. We’ve been trying to dodge the company ever since, but we knew that they stuck watchers to all of us…”

“So you knew from the beginning,” Blaine said quietly.

Kurt smiled. “Well, not totally. After you kept popping up I figured...but I was in denial too. I didn’t want you to be. I wanted you to be normal sweet Blaine who just happened to fall for me.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better, we weren’t even supposed to form any attachments with you,” Blaine said, scratching above his ear. “At least not on our side. We were supposed to stay impersonal. But I started seeing you as a friend and then… That night you ran off, I realized that I had been treating you like a boyfriend. After that I...I didn’t care. I just pretended that everything was normal and…”

“Yeah,” Kurt said quietly, wrapping his arms around himself.

Blaine sat next to him on the bed, leaning back to look at the intricate golden wings sealed into Kurt’s back. His warm hand started tracing the patterns again. "So this happens...when you're cut?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. "Every time. Though, I've noticed that it's been a lot harder to cut myself. I can't get paper cuts, and I've accidentally dropped a kitchen knife onto my foot a few times, but the skin's never broke. This only happened--" He raised his still-bandaged arm. "--because Santana is insanely strong."

"Fascinating," Blaine murmured, bringing both hands up to the skin, probing the scars gently. "I wonder how it affects different bodily functions."

"Rachel and Santana haven't had menstrual cycles for a few years," Kurt shrugged, relaxing back into the firm touch. "Our temperature doesn't stay the same either. We can run really hot and really cold. And I keep getting harder and harder to cut..." Kurt fiddled with his fingers. "I haven't brought this up with the others, but I am worried that one day I might just turn solid."

"I'm not too sure that will happen," Blaine said, the concentrated frown clear in his voice. "Though granted I've never encountered anything qutie like this. I'd have to take blood samples to be sure."

Kurt flinched.

Blaine's hands immediately shot back. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay."

“No, it's not. And...I'm sorry about everything. If I'd known--”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have, though. I mean, I was so prepared to have this assignment and to be able to work firsthand with the genetic samplings that I’ve been dreaming about but...I never guessed that it’d be...well, you.”

Kurt smiled, looking over at Blaine. His gaze brought the alarm clock back into his view. “Blaine...I have to leave.”

Blaine opened his mouth and then closed it. “No, I...I understand. You should go.”

“I don’t want to, though,” Kurt said hurriedly. “I mean, I’d rather stay with you, but I just can’t stay in the city, so...I know that this is a whole lot, but we could explain more of it on the way, and you could come with us.”

"What?"

"I mean, it would help to have a scientist actually on our side, so we can try and figure out our biology more and--"

“I can’t, Kurt.”

Kurt closed his mouth, his heart cracking in two.

“No,” Blaine shook his head. “I mean I literally can’t.” He pulled the collar of his shirt down, exposing his neck. “We’re given implants when we go into the field so they can track us in case something bad happens. You wouldn’t be safe if I went with you.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, the despair starting to seep in. “So...I guess this is goodbye?”

“Just for now,” Blaine said gently. “I’ll try to keep them off your scent. And I’ll see what I can do about the implant. I’ll find you again, I promise. We'll figure this whole thing out, okay?”

Kurt nodded before leaning forward to kiss Blaine once, lightly. He leaned his forehead against Blaine’s and breathed out slowly. Blaine rolled his head until he was nestled in the crook of Kurt's neck, kissing it softly, as his hands ran up and down Kurt's back.

They broke apart and Kurt pulled his shirt back out.  

A minute later he was on the front steps, looking at the snow-silent streets of Manhattan, the door closing firmly behind him with a whispered goodbye. He made himself not turn around and look, instead setting forth to the subway, to Jersey City, to Rachel and Santana and Elliot.

His lips were still warm from Blaine’s kiss even as his tears started to freeze on his now too-cold cheeks.


End file.
